Fading
by Gingehfish
Summary: Random is lost and alone, wishing for a friend, wishing for a hand to hold. ONESHOT. Entry to the FroggyClan May 2014 Writing Contest.


**Fading**

* * *

"_Hold my hand because I might disappear."_

* * *

Dirt.

Random glared at the ground. It was covered in small, gritty particles her mother called 'dirt'. That's not what she thought dirt was: all the dirt _she_ had known was stickier and stuck to her skin or clothes, not the ground. She kicked the planet's surface experimentally: to her surprise and delight, the dirt was stirred up into the air.

Bored, she kicked it again, harder this time. The dirt plumed up near her face, making her sneeze. Unhappy again, she glared at the settling dirt particles and wandered a little further from the spaceship she had arrived in.

It was a nice spaceship—very nice, and very expensive, actually—but Random had stopped caring as soon as her mother had announced where they were going.

_Lamuella_. _What a dumb name,_ Random had thought. _Why?_ is what she had asked.

Her mother, Trillian Astra, had sat her down in the spaceship and explained things to her.

She had received a job from her studio, a big job, covering some war in a distant system. She couldn't bring Random along, and she didn't trust the daycare time nannies anymore. Random was going to Lamuella to live with her father until the war was over.

Random had heard of "fathers" before, but she hadn't thought she had one. She told her mother so.

Trillian had sat her down and explained things—mostly things Random already knew, but a few she didn't.

She was _not happy_.

Why hadn't her father been present in her life so far? Why had she never met him before? Why did Trillian have to cover this stupid war, anyway? Couldn't Random go along? Would her father like her? Did _Trillian_ like her?

When she screamed this at her mother, Trillian's only response was, "I'm sorry."

Random didn't believe her. If she was really sorry, she wouldn't be dropping her off to live with some unknown father for the next several years.

But she was already here, on Lamuella, the planet of dirt. Random had never been to a primitive world before; only to highly advanced ones, and she found she preferred modern life. Even in the few seconds kicking dirt, she had made up her mind. She wasn't going to like Lamuella, and she _definitely_ wasn't going to like her father.

Trillian had disappeared into a small hut. Random could hear two voices conversing: one her mother's, the other, presumably, her father's. What had Trillian said his name was? _Arthur._ Yes, Arthur, that was it. Arthur Dent. That made her Random Dent, since she had no desire to call herself after her mother. Random Astra didn't sound right, either, especially when her middle name was taken into consideration. So Random Frequent Flyer Dent she was.

There was an old Lamuellan approaching her. These people looked very much like her and her mother—almost human—but there was something off about them that told her they were not one of her species. Random scowled at the Lamuellan so thunderously that he backed away, muttering under his breath.

The planets' other inhabitants were crowded, wide-eyed, around their elder representative. As he stepped back, so did they, but she saw more curiosity than fear in their eyes.

Well. She didn't care. She was not going to let them bother her. Random turned her back on the Lamuellans and moped some more.

At last, she heard her name being called.

"Random?" Trillian called out from the door of the hut. "Come in. Come and meet your father."

Random put on her unhappiest, most dissatisfied face and trudged over to the hut. When she arrived, she heard a male voice saying in disbelief, "_Father_? Does that..._father_? What—what about Zaphod?"

Random entered the hut, to see her mother, the attractive, no-nonsense news reporter Trillian Astra, with a resigned expression. Across a small counter was a tall, dark-haired man with a bearing and puzzled expression that implied he was never quite at ease. Random could only suppose this was Arthur Dent, her father.

Random remembered the name Zaphod. He must be referring to Zaphod Beeblebrox, ex-President of the Galaxy and her mother's one-time lover. She was prepared for the answer her mother gave, as she had heard Trillian reciting possible answers to any questions her father might have.

"Not the same species, Arthur," she explained. Random growled and glared at the ground: her mother had not introduced her yet and instead was ignoring her. _Again_. "When I decided I wanted a child, they ran all sorts of genetic tests on me and could only find one match."

_You,_ Random thought disgustedly, glancing at her father.

"It was only later that it dawned on me," Trillian continued. "I double checked and I was right. They don't usually like to tell you, but I insisted."

"You mean you went to a DNA bank?" Arthur asked, eyes wide.

"Yes. But she wasn't quite as random as her name suggests..."

And on and on. Random scowled at the ground, kicking little plumes of dirt into the air once more. She tuned back into her parents' conversation just as Trillian sighed and straightened.

"...I've done all I can, Arthur, it's over to you," her mother said remorselessly. "I've got a war to cover."

Then she turned and walked away, brushing past Random in the doorway, not even bothering to look down at her daughter.

_Mistake,_ her body seemed to say as it left back to the ship. _Random was a mistake._

Random had never belonged anywhere. She was in the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong dimension, for all she knew. All her life she had been going somewhere, and now she was there, apparently. But she didn't like it, and she wanted to leave.

She resented her mother for leaving her, and she resented her father for staying with her. She didn't want to be alone, but she didn't want to be with anyone, either. She felt lost and confused. She needed a hand to hold, a shoulder to cry on, someone to rant to. But no one was there for her.

She felt like she was fading away, like her endless space- and time-traveling had worn her down to nothing. Her mother had said she didn't know her age. Neither did Random. She felt like a nothing, but she wanted to be a something. She wanted to outshine her mother, but that was impossible here on Lamuella.

Random was fading away in obscurity, and all she wanted and needed was a friend. But there was no one to be her friend. Her mother couldn't handle her, and her father looked to be completely hopeless. She looked at the ground as Arthur approached her.

To her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her. He was a head and a half taller than her, and warmer than she had expected.

"I don't love you," he whispered to her. _Well, at least he's not lying,_ Random thought bitterly. "I don't even know you yet. But give me a few minutes."

* * *

Flash forward three months later.

Skip the arrival of the box.

Pass over the thunderstorm and the arrival of the ship, not to mention the weirdness with the bird-Guide.

After her arrival on one of the Earths. No, a little further, past the mishap with Tricia McMillan, her mother-that-wasn't-her-mother.

No, not that far. A little back.

Yes, right there. Right before the green lasers started to cut everything up. In the bar.

A crazy amount of thoughts flashed through Random's head. In despair and confusion, she shouted out one at random.

"Where do I _fit_?" she screamed. She took out the remains of her father's watch and waved her hand around, showing it to everyone in the bar (her mother, her other mother, her father, her father's friend Ford Prefect, and a few strangers). "I thought I would fit here, on the world that made me! But it turns out that even my _mother_ doesn't know who I am!"

She threw the watch to the ground. It broke even further, but for once Random didn't feel bad about.

She just felt more lost, like she was fading even further.

Then a quiet voice spoke. Her mother's voice.

"Random."

"Shut _up_!" Random screamed at her. It felt good to voice her thoughts, but the good feeling was swallowed up in the chaos of her mind. "You abandoned me!"

"Random, it is very important that you listen to me and understand. There isn't very much time. We must leave. We must all leave." Trillian's voice was sad and regretful, but Random _just didn't care anymore_.

"What are you talking about?" Random shouted, holding the gun in her hand shakily with both hands. "We're always _leaving_!"

"Listen. I left you because I went to cover a war for the network. It was extremely dangerous. At least, I thought it was going to be. I arrived and the war had suddenly ceased to happen. There was a time anomaly and... listen!" Trillian said firmly, for Random had begun to wildly point the gun at people in the bar, not paying full attention. "Please listen! A reconnaissance battleship had failed to turn up, the rest of the fleet was scattered in some farcical disarray. It's happening all the time now."

"I don't care! I don't want to hear about your bloody _job_! I want a home! I want to fit somewhere!" _I want a friend,_ Random thought, but she didn't say it.

"This is not your home. You don't have one." Trillian's words cut into Random's heart. _I wish I didn't have a mother! I wish I'd never been born!_

"None of us have one," her mother continued. "Hardly anybody has one anymore. The missing ship I was talking about. The people of that ship don't have a home. They don't know where they are from. They don't even have any memory of who they are or what they are for. They are very lost and very confused and very frightened. They are here in this solar system, and they are about to do something very...misguided...because they are so lost and confused."

_Like me,_ a small part of Random said. That small part was listening, but the rest of her wasn't.

"We...must...leave...now. I can't tell you where there is to go. Perhaps there isn't anywhere. But here is not the place to be. Please," her mother said, and she really did sound pleading, like she wasn't trying to trick Random. "One more time. Can we go?"

How strange: here was her mother asking if they could do something. Asking _her_. Something about that made Random feel more solid, less alone, like maybe she _could_ forgive her mother... maybe she _could_ find a hand to hold...

"It's all right," a new voice said gently. Random turned to see her father. He looked oddly calm and sure of himself for perhaps the first time since Random had met him. "If I'm here, we're safe. Don't ask me to explain just now, but I am safe, so you are safe Okay?"

What? Random blinked. That made no sense. But he seemed so _sure..._ then again, so did madmen. Was he crazy? Had Arthur Dent gone crazy?

"What are you saying?" Trillian asked sharply.

"Let's just all relax," Random's father said pleasantly.

Random felt charmed by his words and her mother's pleading, and slowly—very slowly—began to relax. She began to lower her gun.

Maybe it would be all right...

Then all of a sudden, a man exited the men's room of the bar. Random, without thinking, raised the gun and shot him.

"You..." the man said. Those were his last words, but in his final moments, before he disintegrated, Random thought he was looking at her father with hatred and shock.

Full of guilt and remorse, Random threw the gun down and began to sob, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry..."

Both of her mothers ran to comfort her, and while Ford laughed in the background and Arthur said nothing, Random was hugged by two women she never thought would truly love her. Or were they the same? Was Trillian Tricia?

Who knew? Just as Random wasn't sure which of the women's hands slipped into hers as the world fell apart around her, no one did. But at least she had a hand to hold before she faded away entirely.


End file.
